My Baseball Testimony

Baseball has been a part of life since I was a small boy. Once I arrived to JMU that childhood dream of becoming a professional baseball player started to seem like reality. As a young freshman I emerged with a weekend starting pitcher role, uncommon for a freshman to have. Throughout my freshman and sophomore year I pitched really well, which earned me a spot in the nation’s top college baseball summer league, the Cape Cod. After spending the summer in the cape posting some great numbers, I came back to JMU for my junior season, my draft year, with talks of becoming a 6th to 10th round draft pick.

Throughout my first two years my confidence level was through the roof when I was on the mound and walking around campus. I walked with my head high, shoulders back, and a smile on my face just about everywhere I went because I was about to be a professional baseball player.

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Come spring, I had met with roughly 25 teams through interviews and was on top of the world. Pitching on Friday nights, I had had 3 good outings through the first 3 weekends, the 4th weekend I struggled. Nothing I wasn’t used to, I never let my outings spiral into the next, forget and move on, make the next one better. Except I never had that next outing that year. On March 12th the world stopped, and the rest of our season was cancelled due to COVID-19.

At first there was mixed feelings, I thought my career at JMU was done. I was going to get drafted. I had had my last game in the purple and gold without even knowing it. On the other hand, I can train for the 4 months leading up to the draft, maybe gain a couple miles per hour on my fastball and improve my stock. With no gameplay, there wasn’t quite anything that I could do to hurt my draft stock.

The next couple months were weird, nobody really went out, facilities were closed, the world truly stopped moving. Lucky enough to have a big lawn, I created a “pitching ranch” of my own in my parents back yard with a mound, plyo wall, nets, etc. to continue to get better. My training was in full tilt, and I was feeling good.

In April, the news that the MLB draft would be shortened from its traditional 40 rounds was all the talk within the baseball world. Some said that it would be 20, maybe 10, few talked about the slim possibility of it being a 5-round draft. As the draft got closer, the talk shifted to being 10 rounds, I had received many phone calls from scouts saying that it would be 10 rounds and they see me in the 6-10 round window. This was great, my dream was becoming real and I was about a month away from having my lifelong dream job, a professional baseball player.

On May 8th, 2020, I received a phone call from a San Diego Padres scout telling me that the draft was going to be 5 rounds. “All players who go undrafted would be eligible to sign for a maximum of $20,000. While there was a proposal to the union for the union for a 10-round draft, the sides didn’t come to an agreement” the MLB posted the next day. My heart sank into my chest, I just about burst into tears on the phone with the Padres scout. “You’re not in our 5 round window but hey, come Sunday morning I can assure you that we’ll call you with a free agent deal”. My thoughts became anxiety.

The next month was spent with almost no sleep. I lied awake at night thinking about what I should do. I wanted to sign the free agent deal, even though I had the chance to make a lot more money if it was any other year. This was my chance, and I should take it. I had talks with my parents, agent, mentors, and my coaches to try to get a grip on what I should do. While some said to take the free agent deal, the majority told me I would be stupid to take that little money with the talent and potential signing bonus I could have if I just went back to school for another year. Going back to school would allow me to get my degree and make a little bit more cash in next year’s draft.

I didn’t want to go back to school, I had my mind set on being a professional baseball player. I wanted to just take the money and make my dream a reality… but I didn’t listen to myself.

2 days after the draft, 9 A.M. on the dot, the hour that free agents could begin to get signed I got a call from the Boston Red Sox. 2 minutes later I got a call from the Padres, by 10 o’clock I had received 5 phone calls from teams offering me free agent deals. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was sit on those phone calls and tell each team that I would like to take my chances in next year’s draft and go back to school. When it was all said and done, I had turned down 17 opportunities to play professional baseball.

Fast forward to the school year, I became excited with the fact that I had another year with my best friends and brothers. Upon moving into a new house (got it last minute since I didn’t sign a lease because I thought the year before was my last) it was quickly noticeable that this year was going to be much different. COVID-19 rules at JMU, especially within the athletic department were extremely strict. We were to not hang out in groups over 10, and only really hang out with our roommates, especially over a meal. The fall went on, athletic department getting shut down multiple times due to covid cases, no real team practices, wearing masks while pitching, etc.

The spring policies were even more strict as we were truly only allowed to hang out with our roommates and didn’t really leave the house for anything except for practice and maybe an occasional drive-thru bite to eat. This was tough, not being able to hang out with friends and get my mind off things. If I had a bad practice or preseason “intra-squad”, I went right home and had nothing to do except think and evaluate my performance. Our policies stayed the same throughout the season, which continued my routine of going home after games and overthinking.

After 2 “okay” starts in the first 2 weekend series, my career began the downfall that would last for the rest of my college career.

I was panicking, every time I took the mound, I could hear myself thinking, I was contemplating every single pitch, every single inning, every single game. Everything I did consisted of seconding guessing whether I made the right choice to come back to school. In an attempt to think like a scout, I was diminishing every bit of the competitive nature that I had spent my whole life building. The spiral began and it did not let up.

Unusual to my normal self, I was walking people, I was giving up hard hit balls, home runs, you name it. On multiple occasions I had walked or gotten the bases loaded and then given up a grand slam. I began to feel numb after the games, the anger that I used to have after bad outings was gone, the drive to get myself back on track was gone. This numbness continued and began to find its way into the middle of games, innings, and pitches. I would give up a home run or get yanked out early and not feel a thing. I wouldn’t be angry, not throw my glove. I would walk down to a secluded place and sit there by myself until I managed to throw on my sunglasses and jacket and go sit in a chair where I would sit in silence for the remainder of the game.

This went on for the whole entire year. Thankful for my coaches, they continued to give me shots at pitching in games and making starts. Every time I started to think I was getting somewhere; I went right back into the rabbit hole. I became obsessed with the idea of “fixing myself”, every week I would watch video of the previous outing and begin coming up with a new fix. Countless times I’d go up to my teammates saying, “I’m back” or “I think I know what I’m doing wrong”. There was never a fix in sight, the only thing wrong with my pitching was the anxiety that had crept over my brain.

Towards the end of the season, I came up with the excuse of needing a new change of scenery and that I just needed to get a fresh start somewhere else. This change of scenery came in the form of the inaugural season of the MLB Draft League, where top prospects come together to play in a league before the draft in July. I finished up my JMU season on May 21st, packed up my entire house in Harrisonburg, and reported to the Frederick Keys on May 23rd, spending a total of 12 hours at my home with my beloved family.

We practiced on the 23rd at our home stadium in Frederick, MD. A pro-style practice in which the pitchers did some throwing and then threw off the mound. Playing catch with someone that I had just met before that day, I began throwing just like I had thousands of times. When I started to back up and throw a little bit harder, the ball randomly began to just pop out of my hand and go flying 20 feet over my partners head into the stands of the beautiful Harry Grove Stadium. That was weird… same thing on the next throw, and again, and again, until I eventually was so confused that I just stopped throwing all together. “That was weird, that has never happened before, I promise that doesn’t happen when I hop on the mound” I Said to my catcher that I had been playing catch with.

My first three outings were good, not great, but good. I began to strike people out again, having appearances of 3 innings and being able to strike out 5 or 6 batters. Still a couple walks but the strikeouts outweighed them. On the fourth outing, I blew a save for my team, which would’ve gotten us our first win, we tied but I still blew it. The next day I get a call from the Padres. At the sight of the caller ID I thought maybe they had good news that they were interested again. “We just don’t see you as a prospect anymore… we had you down as plus command guy and you’re just struggling to find the zone”. At the time, I’d tell you I saw it coming and it didn’t bother me at all, but deep down, any progress I had made in the past month was completely diminished.

After that day my pitching went from bad to awful. In my next outing that same feeling of the ball flying out of my hand playing catch on the first day crept into my mound performance. While on the mound, in front of thousands of Key’s fans, I proceeded to throw every single ball 15 feet over the catcher into the backstop net. Every single one…like I was trying to throw it there. Those familiar with baseball know it as the word that should never be said, “The Yips”.

The place where I had once felt the most powerful, now filled with crippling anxiety that took over my body every time I picked up a baseball. Every game of catch or bullpen session became dreadful. Anything that wasn’t a lob, went over the head of who I was throwing with. I would get frustrated, sad, and give up. I just couldn’t understand why, what do I need to do to fix myself? Why is this happening? Baseball has been my whole entire life and now I can’t even throw over 10 ft. The same “fix it” mindset came around and every single day I was trying to throw the ball differently to try to help get it to the catcher. Nothing was working.

My remaining weeks in Frederick consisted of throwing 98% sliders with a mix of a backstop ball once an inning. Somehow, it was working. I did this until it was time to go home for the midseason break, a weeklong break that allowed players to go home and celebrate the draft with their families. For the second year in a row, I watched players that I had played with, pitched against, and struck out, get drafted right before my eyes. Familiar names were announced, but none being mine. My anxiety and depression began to worsen as I began to think about what the next year would look like for me. Do I go back to school for my last year of eligibility? Do I play independent ball? Hell, I can’t even throw a baseball to the catcher right now.

A couple weeks before we had gone home for the break, I had called my old coach up in the Cape Cod league and asked if I could come play for him for the rest of the summer. Hoping the weeklong break had magically fixed my yips, I hopped in my car and drove up to the beautiful Cape Cod.

My first bullpen with the team consisted of throwing the ball over the catcher’s head over 10 times right in front of the pitching coach. The same pitching coach that had seen me have games of striking out 7 guys in 3 innings and absolutely dominate the best hitters in the country just 2 summers before. I would make excuses like “my ankle is tight” or “my back is sore”, but everyone knew exactly what was wrong, I had a bad case of the yips.

My pitching coach worked with me, he threw with me every single day, gave me drills to do. Things got a little bit better; I was able to get the ball to the catcher more often, but it felt forced, it wasn’t the natural motion I once had. I thought things would just click and I would be perfectly normal again, I wasn’t paying any attention to progression, I just wanted everything to go back to normal.

When I arrived back to school for my 5th season, I jokingly told a couple of my teammates about my yips experience. “It just randomly happens sometimes, but I’m good now, I don’t even care how this year goes, I’m just here to play with my bros one last time and have a good time”. The once ultra-competitive, prospect driven, hard worker, turned into just happy to be here guy.

That mindset had actually worked for a little bit. I had sucked at playing catch throughout the whole fall, I could not play a simple game of catch to save my life. However, when I hopped on the mound, I had a developed a “throw the crap out of it” mindset, that allowed me to somewhat get back to normal.

On scout day, the stands of our stadium were filled with scouts eager to get their eyes on one of my teammates who was expected to get drafted high in the upcoming draft. I went out, pumped up on adrenaline and “threw the crap out of it”. I fired multiple 95 mph fastballs, all for strikes. Disgusting sliders and changeups, all for strikes. And a newly formed cutter, for a strike. Scout’s eyes lit up behind the backstop as they saw a glimpse of the old Nick Stewart back on the mound. “I’m back” … and so is the anxiety.

My free and easy mindset came to a halt on that day, the scouts saw me as a prospect again, so I did as well. I pitched well through the rest of the fall, riding the high of scout day and my coach’s idea being an elite closer for the upcoming season. I went home for winter break and trained for the season like I had in all my years prior. I had shut down from throwing just to give my arm a couple weeks of rest before the vigorous season.

Back on the mound back at school everything was lost during my break. I was throwing balls all over the place and it felt as if I had made zero progress this whole time. Shutting down my throwing had put me back in the same situation I was in during the summer.

To no surprise, the season rolled around, and I didn’t get any playing time at our season opener at Florida State. I was angry. While I knew I had a crippling case of the yips, in my head I thought if I can just go into the game, I will be able to focus enough, and it won’t be a problem. My first appearance came a couple days later at our first home game, I had thrown the first 4 balls to the backstop, and it appeared that my hypothesis was not correct. Somehow by the grace of God I was able to get a double play and a pop out to end the game with no harm.

The next month was filled with countless hours of throwing hundreds of balls into a 9-pocket screen behind home plate off the mound. Sometimes, I would hop off the mound, in a full speed bullpen 5 days a week in urge to try to fix what was going on. By this point, 8 months later, I had embraced that I had the yips. The “throw the crap out of it” mindset was still the best remedy to fixing what I had going on. Even though I wasn’t getting into games, I was throwing bullpens with fastballs up to 97 mph. Even more anger… I can throw a ball 97 mph, but I can’t even get in the game.

My next appearance came against the University of Tennessee, the number one ranked team in the country. I came in the game to get the final out, nervous and filled with anxiety that I was going to throw balls to the backstop in front of the loud voiced vols fans. To my surprise, I struck out one of their best hitters on three fastballs right down the middle of the plate, 95 mph a piece.

I’M BACK!!! WHAT DID I TELL YOU? THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU PUT ME IN THE GAME!!

2 days later I went into a game and threw 8 straight pitches at the backstop and got pulled.

I went the rest of the season without recording another out, which included 3 more outings. As a gesture of kindness, my coaches put me into the very last game of the season, as this would be the last time I would suit up for a game in the purple and gold. All I had to do was record 1 out and the game would be over. I walked two, and hit a batter, leaving my coaches no other choice but to pull me, ending my JMU career with a season stat of 6 appearance, 1.1 innings, 1 strikeout, and 10 walks.

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I don’t write this testimony as a way for others to feel sorry for me. I write this as a way to show that mental health in sports is a legitimate thing. Baseball took me to my highest of highs and my lowest of lows. My anxiety took my hard work and dedication and threw it to the ground. Those 2 years of my life had been such a blur and it often felt as if I had been living in a nightmare, but in reality, it wasn’t. As a man of faith, I am a big believer in the saying “everything happens for a reason and that God has a plan”. Once I truly embraced that statement, I was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Baseball had been my whole life, to the best of my knowledge, it was going to be my career after college. I hadn’t been focused on getting a job or paying attention to any internships. The only thing in my mind was being a professional baseball player. I spent my summers playing summer baseball and my winters training my butt off to make my dream come true.

I now see my story as a blessing in disguise. I was able to live my dream of being on a college baseball team, being that freshman that started and did well, playing in the prestigious Cape Cod Baseball League. As a kid I went to Frederick Keys games and would dream of playing for them, and I did just that.

Sure, I didn’t get drafted or ever have the opportunity to call myself a professional baseball player but so what? That’s life. I may not have anything to show for the hard work and dedication that I put in, but so what? That’s life.

Life is bigger than being a baseball player. I often would find myself saying that my life sucks or that nothing could get any worse. How would I explain that my life sucks to an orphan child that just lost their parents in a car accident? Or to the parents that just lost their baby boy to pediatric cancer? I can’t and wouldn’t because my ‘life’ didn’t suck, I was too focused on making baseball my life and not just a game.

Being a college athlete is such a small, small fraction of someone’s lifetime and I write this to those college athletes that struggle with performance-based anxiety. Your sport does not define who you are as a person or where your life is going to take you. Bad game? So what. I know how hard it is to see in the moment because I lived through that myself. I encourage you to think outside of the box and look at the bigger picture. You’re going to be okay; I promise you.

God Bless